A Rose in the Rain
by The Alleycat Ulan
Summary: -DISCONTINUED- When Marian is kidnapped Robin enlists the help of three theives to help him rescue her. But what started out as a simple rescue mission suddenly becomes much more. AU
1. In which Robin arrives home

Hello everyone!

Here I am with the first chapter of a *another* multichap. Yes, I know I really should be working on Pink Sky in the Morning and the second chapter of The Swan Princess, but this idea just came out of pretty much no where. This is the first story where I've had little trouble coming up with a series of events to suit the plot or vice versa. Does anyone else get that?

**Thanks to** IDreamOfFantasy, MadChick, eleroo02, Lizhi Anne and LittleMissTomboy for all their help in one way or another.

Aww, I want to make some other comments about this story too, but I'm going to have to wait until at least chapter 3 to mention them so I don't give anything away. But I guess I should mention that despite appearances this story wasn't originally meant to be focussed on Robin, but instead on Will, Djaq and Allan. I don't mind though lol, Robin gave this story a good direction.

**Warnings **mild violence, coarse language, character deaths and of course it's AU.

All that said, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Robin stared down on the sprawling town of Locksley. Lights from the buildings cast a dim glow in the twilight and smoke rose from the numerous chimneys lending the air a woody scent. It was a welcome change from the Holy Land, where cries of the dying and injured fill the air with agony and the scent of blood and fear hung so thick in the air it felt as though you were breathing it in.

_Home sweet home_ he thought urging his horse, Bruno, over the rise and along the wooded path that led to Locksley Manor. Bruno moved along the path eagerly, he knew he was finally headed home and snorted with pleasure. Reaching out Robin grasped a branch of a silver leafed bush as he passed, letting the foliage slip through his fingers and they moved past.

Robin couldn't believe he was so close to home, he wished he could share Bruno certainty that home was still there. After the horrors he had seen it was hard to believe that anything was certain anymore. He was jumping at shadows, twitching at sudden noises, fidgeting uneasily in the saddle as the countryside rolled past. Bruno tossed his head impatiently.

As they passed through the gates which marked the beginning of Locksley land Robin leant forward and rubbed the bay's neck, "Easy boy, we're almost home," he whispered. _Home_. The word felt alien in his mouth. Robin sighed, he thought he would be happy to be home, but instead he could feel things he pushed out of his mind fighting to get back in. Now that he had let his guard down he could feel the memories pressing forward, willing him to face them.

Bruno stopped suddenly and Robin nearly toppled from the saddle, a sure sign that he was agitated. "What is it boy?" Robin asked, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to understand the answer anyway. Eyes straining he peered into woods surrounding him, trying to see what the horse had sensed in the rapidly fading light.

A twig snapped and he turned in the saddle, "Who's there?" he called into the night. Bruno snorted uneasily and pawed the ground. Silently Robin reached back and withdrew and arrow from the quiver that rested on his back. He might have left the war, but the war hadn't left him, not yet.

"Who's there?" he called again, "Show yourself!" Another twig snapped and Robin swung to its direction and loosed an arrow in the looming darkness. He felt stupid, jumping at shadows and even stupider trying to skewer one with an arrow, but he felt certain there was something out there. Bruno tossed his head again and Robin reached out with one hand to steady himself.

He waited a moment, but whatever it was must have moved on, because beneath him Bruno relaxed. Robin took his cue from the horse and together they pushed forward once more. They had only gone a short way when Bruno gave a snort and picked up his pace, breaking into a trot as they rounded bend in the path. There was a mounted figure on the path ahead, moving towards them.

Robin made to check Bruno back but the tired horse broke into a light canter and whinnied happily, quickly closing the gap between the two horses. As the horses drew alongside Robin finally recognised the silhouette of the other rider.

"Thornton?"

"Master Robin is that you?" The older man raised a torch and shone it at Robin, his eyes scrunched up in concentration as he squinted through the shadows. The manservant's eyesight had been going downhill since before Robin had left for the Holy Land, in fact Robin was surprised the man was still working. He had been certain that the loyal manservant would retire before he returned, from blindness if anything else, but Robin had been proven wrong and Thornton finally proclaimed, "It is you!"

"Yes, it is Thornton. The one and only," Robin said smiling.

"Oh it is good to see you safe and well," the man said turning his horse to ride with Robin back to the manor, "You are well aren't you?" He peered suspiciously at his lord and master through the dimness and Robin he knew he was being examined for any injuries.

"I'm fine, really," Robin replied, "Just a little tired," he glanced back over his shoulder, "What about the gate?"

"Oh, I'll just send one of the young lads to get it, it is their job after all," Thornton shrugged and Robin allowed himself a small smile. No doubt the proud old manservant had insisted on shutting the gate ever since they had received news that Robin was on his way home and had wanted to be the one to accompany the master of the manor home.

They rode on in relative silence, until Robin plucked up the courage to ask, "How is Much, Thornton. I haven't heard from him since he...since he was sent back,"

Thornton's face clouded slightly and he didn't look Robin in the eye as he answered, "He was sent to London, master," Thornton didn't elaborate and Robin didn't push him for information. It was another memory he wanted to put off facing for as long as possible.

Finally Locksley Manor came into sight, and with a final burst of speed Bruno cantered the final leg to the stables. The moment Robin swung from the saddle he was swept inside amidst a flurry of enviably energetic servants, willing to serve his every whim. It was almost as though they were as happy for him to be home as he was, or at least he should have been. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that he was really home; it was as though everything was passing by in daze, maybe even a dream and Robin didn't want to look too closely just in case he woke up and it really was a dream.

* * *

Reactions born of necessity kicked in the moment Robin heard movement, he was sitting up, his hand reaching for the blade he kept by his bedside ...and then he saw Abbey. She stood in the doorway, somewhat startled by his sudden movements.

"Sorry, master, I didn't mean to scare you!" she exclaimed moving into the room cautiously.

"No, it's okay," Robin said, slightly embarrassed by his reaction. He sunk back into the bed and its welcoming warmth, struggling to remember the steps that had led to him to his bed. It was a blur.

Abbey moved to the window, and drawing the heavy curtains aside opened it, letting the soft morning breeze into the room.

"Would you like me to run a bath for you, master?" she asked, turning back from the window.

"Yes, thank you Abbey," Robin nodded, "I'm going out to check something and I'll have it when I get back,"

"Yes master," Abbey curtsied and left Robin alone in the room.

As the door clicked shut behind her Robin reached for the leather cord that hung around his neck and drew a small pouch out from under his shirt. He had learned long ago that this was the best way to transport, and if need be conceal, money and other precious items. Reverently he placed the worn leather pouch on the palm of his other hand and opened it. Reaching inside he drew out an old piece of cloth.

Turning it over revealed it was a piece of embroidery. Amateur embroidery, but embroidery all the same. It was supposed to be a red rose but it looked like little more than tangled red knots. Robin smiled at it, turning it over and over in his hands childhood memories playing in his mind.

"_Marian! Why won't you come and play?" A young Robin whinnied, Much trailing close behind. Marian huffed and kept walking, trying to ignore the two boys._

"_Marian!" Robin ran up and stood in front of her, blocking her path._

"_I can't," she replied bluntly. _

"_Why?"_

"_Mother says I have to learn to be a lady," Marian said matter-of-factly._

"_Be a lady? But that's so boring!"_

"_It is not!"_

"_Yes, it is! You don't get to do anything fun,"_

"_Yes we do,"_

"_Really? Like what?"_

"_We… get to sit around and talk,"_

"_Is that it?"_

"_No! They're teaching me embroidery! That's fun!"_

"_No it isn't you said you hate embroidery. You can't do it anyway,"_

"_Yes I can, look!" Marian held it out proudly, the knot of red stitches on a scrap piece of cloth._

"_What is it?" Much asked. _

"_It's a rose, like the ones that grow outside the church," Marian told him smiling as he looked at the cloth._

"_Oh, those ones that smell really nice?"_

"_Yes, those ones,"_

"_It kind of looks like vomit," Robin said squinting at it. Marian and Much stopped chatting and looked at him. Marian's face turned as red as the thread._

"_It does not!" she yelled._

"_I t does too!" Robin yelled back, "You can't do embroidery!" _

"_I can! I can! I'm going to be a lady and do embroidery!"_

"_You're not a lady!"_

"_You're so mean!" Marian threw the cloth in the dirt at his feet and ran, tears streaming down her face. Robin angrily kicked more dirt onto the cloth, he only wanted to play, but Marian would rather sit around and talk and do embroidery than play with him! _

"_Come on, Much. Let's go and play somewhere else," Robin said turning away._

"_What about her embroidery?" Much asked indignantly. _

"_Leave it," Robin said angrily._

"_You should give it back to her," Much insisted, good natured even then. _

"_I don't want to," Robin pouted. _

_Much held it out to him and gave him that look, "I won't ever forgive you if you don't give it back to her," he said decidedly._

"_Fine." Robin snatched it away and pushed it into his pocket. _

The truth was he never did apologise. And he never did give the 'rose' back to her.

Sighing Robin tucked the fabric away again and began to dress. He wasn't a child anymore, he'd have to face her sooner or later, he knew. When he had finished dressing he pulled on his coat and headed out the door.

Outside the autumn air was crisp, his breath showing in the air. Gravel crunching beneath his feet he moved out of the courtyard and along the path that had led him home the previous evening, digging his hands deep into his pockets for warmth.

A few minutes of rapid walking brought him to where he had fired his arrow. Veering off the path into the under growth Robin searched. Then he found what he was looking for. There, buried into a tree, was the arrow.

Robin stepped forward to claim it and then stopped.

The ground around the base of the tree was scuffed. And there, half buried in the dirt was a piece of black cloth. It looked as though it had been torn from a cloak or a piece of similar clothing. Robin squinted closer, was that...blood?

He stood up, and glanced around and then stopped. Whoever it was would be long gone by now. The arrow obviously hadn't injured them too badly, maybe just nicked the skin or something similar.

But that wasn't what worried him.

* * *

_Pretend that this is a witty request for reviews and that it worked._


	2. In which Robin confronts Guy

Chapter 2 is up!

Sorry it took me so long! heh heh ^^'

Enjoy!

* * *

"Would it help if I said I'm sorry?"

The speaker was met with a look that clearly said 'no'.

"Look not bein' funny but it really wasn't my fault."

The speaker was again met with a look, this time that said the other held beliefs to the contrary.

* * *

As Robin was returning to the manor his growing want to bathe pushed all other thoughts aside until it dominated his mind. He was becoming increasingly certain that he could be smelt the next fief over. The thought of the warm soapy water cleansing his skin drove him into a steady jog back up the path. He pulled up abruptly as he came around a bend the path which offered him a clear view of Locksley, a sight which had not been visible the night before.

Pausing to catch his breath he watched the town and came to see the extent to which things had changed during his time in the Holy Land. The light cast by the buildings the night before had proved misleading; the town was not prospering as he had first thought. Many of the houses were falling into disrepair; some on the outskirts of the town were abandoned and crumbling. Closer to the middle of the town the houses became more tightly packed, shaky buildings had sprung up in what had once been streets and alleyways, and the inn had gained an extra, albeit rickety, storey.

In that moment Robin knew he would not be able to enjoy his bath until he had investigated further. With a sigh he turned back and headed out the gate towards the town. The walk was a short one but Robin saw enough for a knot to develop in his stomach. Much of the outer farmland was now abandoned; the paddocks surrendered to weeds and wildflowers, seemingly the only plants able to survive the harsh draught of the past two years. A few of the fields closer to the town faired better, but Robin knew they would not harvest enough from those to feed the entire town through the fast approaching winter.

As he reached the outskirts of the town it became apparent that draughter and poor harvest were not the only things that have ravaged it. A frighteningly large number of houses were boarded up; some even bore scorch marks around the windows and doorways. Other were completely destroyed, nothing left but decaying ruins. As he moved deeper into the town, Robin pulled his hood up over his head. He doubted he would be recognised, a man could change a lot in the space of three years as he well knew, but he wanted to remain inconspicuous all the same.

He moved further into the small town towards its centre. Finally he set himself down in a doorway which offered a good view of the human traffic that passed by and began to observe with a certain sadness the truly grim state of things. People hardly spared him a glance as they passed by, their minds occupied by the day's tasks. That was normal enough; the people of Locksley had long prided themselves on their hard working mind-set and in previous years had reaped the rich rewards. But not now. Now they had the grim look of people who knew their doom was upon them and yet refused to give up. Robin had to admire them for that.

He could sense a tension in the air, in the way the people held themselves. Almost as if they were rabbits, scurrying about the necessary tasks, but ready to bolt at any sign of danger. Children still played in the streets, but they were thin and lanky. Their mothers watched them with sharp eyes, not letting them wonder out of view, ready to sweep in at a moment's notice and shepherd them away to safety. The young children were oblivious. Older children though, knew something was amiss, Robin was certain of that. He could see how they went to pains to make sure the younger ones stayed within a safe distance and had that same alert readiness in the way they held themselves as the adults. Robin's heart went out to them, in the Holy Land he had seen the suffering of children who had had their innocent stripped away from them. He had seen the hollowness in their eyes. And how they saw fear everywhere they looked, just like rabbits they were always ready to bolt.

And bolt they did. It swept through the town like a wave. He couldn't see what had started it yet, but whatever it was it struck fear into the very hearts of the people of Locksley. People stopped where they stood, the men stepping forward while mothers whisked the young ones out of sight. Doors and windows shut along the streets, as some chose to seek refuge indoors.

Then came the familiar sound of horses' hoof beats and the clattering of the armour of those who rode them. The air seemed to still as the horses and their riders came to a stop in the town square. Robin blinked hard, momentarily blinded by the dust that had been stirred into the air. As the air cleared he was able to see the riders better; at their fore a dark-haired man, his shield marking him as a knight. Six guards flanked him on horse back with six more on foot, spreading out into a formation intended to emphasise their brute force.

"Three bags of flour have been stolen from the store rooms at Locksley manor," the knight spoke and a chill of anger washed down Robin's spine. Here was a man who cared naught for the plights of others, no matter had sad and sorry. "They will be recovered and those who stole them made to pay."

As he finished speaking the six guards on foot moved forward to confront the men of the village. For a moment the men stood strong, but then something in them wavered and they stepped aside giving the guards free rein to search the shops and houses. The ransacking continued for a time, the guards using this opportunity to plunder any valuables and wreak general destruction upon the town, all the while the hollow-eyed townspeople watched on, not a word of protest leaving their mouths.

Finally a young man was dragged before the knight. Immediately he began to preach his innocence, but his words fell upon unhearing, or more correctly, uncaring ears. A bag of flour dumped onto the dirt beside him.

"Is that all there was?" Gisbourne spoke to the guards who nodded in response. Gisbourne spoke up and now his voice carried to all the townspeople, "It is obvious this man had an accomplice. Step forward now and make yourself known."

His command was greeted by stony silence.

"This is your last chance." The townspeople said nothing.

There was a scrabbling noise and Robin looked up to see a raven perched on the ledge above him watching the proceedings with beady eyes. It gave a caw and ruffled its feathers. Robin could almost swear it was as displeased with the proceedings as he was.

The knight gave a sniff and spoke again, "If that is the case then my guards will search every house, store and alleyway of this godforsaken town until the flour has been accounted for and the thieves captured. Those who are found to be guilty of this crime will be hung for their insubordination."

That was the last straw. Robin stepped out of the shadowy doorway.

"Last time I checked, Guy of Gisbourne-"

One of the foot guards cut him off, "_Sir_ Guy of Gisbourne to you and you will bow before your master,"

Robin raised an eyebrow but bowed all the same making the gesture as insulting as possible, "_Sir_ Guy of Gisbourne, the last time I checked the penalty for stealing flour was a spell in the stocks."

"Well times have changed." The knight replied coldly. It was obvious to Robin that the man was not used to being spoken to this way and nor did he like it for he opened his mouth to continue, no doubt to order that Robin also be arrested but Robin spoke first.

"As I can well see and they are about to change again. Sir Guy of Gisbourne," once again the title was said with a mocking twist, ""My name is Robin, earl of Huntingdon and lord of Locksley, your services are no longer required here."

Stunned silence prevailed pierced only by the call of the raven as it took flight.

* * *

"He's been what?!"

"I'm gonna kill 'im! I'm gonna kill 'im, bury 'im, dig 'im up and kill him again!"

"Not if Gisbourne gets there first," This was said bluntly, almost uncaringly. The previous speaker rounded on him.

"Not bein' funny but it's your fault!"

"My fault?!"

"Yes, it is. He's your _partner_ Winston! You're supposed to watch out for him!"

"Well, he's your brother! If you're so worried about him you go and rescue him."

"Fine, I will!"

"You can't do that Erebus, it'll ruin the plan. We might not get another chance like this." A third person spoke up.

"Well, then that solves this problem. Moros's getting left behind. He bought it on himself and I'm not risking my neck to save that sorry sack."

"Nobody's getting left behind." Another speaker entered the conversation; his speech was somewhat monosyllabic but it had a certain air of finality about it that even Winston was not going to argue with, "_And_ we are sticking to the plan."

* * *

Robin shut the door behind him with a thud, as though somehow the action might also shut out all the thoughts that swirled around inside his brain. To some extent it worked, for now the thoughts of his long await bath once again began to dominate his mind. Steam rose from the warm water and flowers petals floated lightly on the surface riding the soft ripples. The sweet scent filled his nostrils.

Robin moved towards it removing his cloak and shirt as he went. Reaching out he dipped a hand into the water to check the temperature. The warmth rose up his fingers and someone knocked at the door. Robin looked up, halfway to removing his undershirt.

"My Lord?" Thornton's voice penetrated the solid wood of the door. Robin suppressed a sigh and pulled his shirt back on.

"Yes? Come in." The old manservant entered a troubled look on his face.

"My Lord, Sir Guy of Gisbourne is here and is requesting you presence," the man said, one of his hands absently tugging at the hem of his shirt. Robin ran his hand through his already tousled in agitation.

"Tell him I'll be there presently," he said, not bothering to hide the air of frustration in his voice.

"Of course, My Lord," Thornton said bowing out of the room, the door clicked shut behind him and Robin picked up his over shirt. He gave it a suspicious sniff.

"Oh, My Lord?" Thornton had stuck his head back into the room.

"Yes?"

"May I suggest you hurry? He seems to be in a frightful mood."

Robin nodded understanding and pulled the shirt on anyway. If the knight was going to be impatient then Robin would hold no qualms about showing the man what his impatience had cost Robin.

* * *

Thanks to all those who reviewed the previous chap: HighPriestessOfTheDreamWorld, Lizhi Anne and airforcekidd33.

Hope you enjoyed and remember: Reviews are always welcomed in my inbox =P


	3. In which plans are finalised

Wow.

I think this must have been one of my quickest updates. waa! It's only been a month!

...Actually...I had this done almost a week after the last update, but I didn't have the time to post.

Enjoy!

* * *

Something about the way Guy of Gisbourne stood in the entrance of Locksley Manor suggested that he was not pleased. But then again, he seemed to Robin the kind of man wasn't about to be pleased by much at all. In fact he seemed like the kind of man who had been born with a scowl on his face. When Robin reached the foot of the stairs the knight bowed stiffly.

"Welcome home Locksley," he said in a voice that suited the manner in which he had bowed and strengthened Robin's theory that he wasn't happy, "Now I have kept your lands for you, I have managed your estates to the best of my ability under guidance of the sheriff and I would appreciate more respect in front of the populous,"

Robin raised an eyebrow, "How many years have you been here?"

"Three years, four winters," The knight replied, still scowling.

"And yet you still do not have the respect of the populous?" Robin wondered aloud. Gisbourne ignored the jibe. "My men and I will leave duly for Nottingham," he said instead.

"My servant will help you pack," Robin offered, although he made it obvious that it was for his want to rid himself of the knight rather than a genuine offer of good hearted assistance.

Again Gisbourne let the jibe slide and asked instead, "How was the Holy Land?"

"Bloodthirsty." Bluntly.

"I understand the king is winning, thanks be to god," Gisbourne pressed.

"He is killing more people," Robin allowed.

"Ah, is that not winning." Gisbourne asked a faint smile on his lips.

"Show me an argument ever settled by bloodshed and then I'll call it winning," Robin challenged, although he worded it carefully, because he had no doubt that if he said one wrong word the knight would have no qualms about reporting him for treason. And Robin was not above suspecting that treason was exactly what Gisbourne was trying to bait him into saying.

"Do not pretend that you do not love war, I have seen you fight," This time Gisbourne smiled fully and menacing it was.

"When?" Robin asked sharply.

"I do not recall," was the vague answer.

"I am changed." Robin said, not entirely understanding why he suddenly felt the need to prove himself to this man of all people.

Gisbourne smirked as if to say that Robin hadn't fooled him and promptly changed the subject again, "The council of nobles meets tomorrow in Nottingham. The Sheriff has called a feast to celebrate your safe return,"

"Good bye." Robin replied, a clear dismissal.

"Good bye," The knight replied, surprisingly pleasant. Pleased with himself most likely, though for what reason Robin couldn't even begin to fathom.

An idea occurred to him and had him calling after the departing knight, "One thing," Gisbourne turned backed and Robin continued, "I shall celebrate my safe return by pardoning any and all wrongdoers from my estates awaiting trial or punishment"

"Only the sheriff can pardon, you know that," Was Gisbourne's reply and he seemed pleased by it.

"It is costumary for the sheriff to accede to his noble's requests on such matters," Robin pressed, adopting a lofty air.

"Well, then I suggest you take it up with him," Gisbourne shrugged and walked off.

Robin watched him leave, thoughtfully. Thornton approached him, "If I may say My Lord, none of us will be sad to see him leave."

Robin turned to him and offered a smile, "I thought as much. Thornton, we have lots of food in the stores don't we?" The head servant nodded the affirmative, "Well, get it all out and get those from the town up here and fed. The sick, elderly and children first and then everyone else. Make sure every mouth is fed, and any who are in need of shelter or treatment may remained here until other arrangements can be made,"

The older man looked somewhat troubled, "_Everyone_ My Lord?"

Robin nodded, "It'll be a celebration,"

"Of course, My Lord," Thornton said with a bow, mostly to hide his face lest it betray his ponderings that maybe the young lord had suffered some sort of head damage during his time in the Holy Lands. But then again, Robin had always been a kind lad, and maybe the war hadn't changed him as much as Thornton had first feared.

Thornton made to leave and begin the necessary preparations for the task, when Robin's voice stopped him, "And Thornton?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"I am going to have a bath, and if anyone else comes to disturb me, I will personally put them up against a wall and shoot them."

* * *

Marian had been standing at the top of the stairs when the messenger had arrived. She'd lurked there, knowing full well that the messenger would not be likely to repeat his message in her presence. And technically she wasn't eavesdropping; she just happened to be standing in a place where she could hear what was said below quite clearly. A pure coincidence, that was all.

When the messenger left, her father called her down.

"I suppose you heard that?"

"Heard what?" she said, face a mask of pure innocence.

"Honestly Marian, I thought I bought you up better," the old man muttered more to himself than to her. A servant came over and offered Marian her cloak, she accepted it and began to pull it on.

"Robin's back isn't he?" She asked seriously, although she already knew the answer. Edward fixed her with a concerned looked, "Marian…" he said slowly, "Please don't do anything foolish…"

Marian smiled at him, "Don't worry about me, father," she said kissing him on the forehead, "I'm just going for a ride in the forest."

Edward watched the door shut behind her, shuddering slightly in the cold breeze that had briefly been admitted, "Of course you are, dear."

* * *

The shadowy, masked figure moved through the streets and alleys silently. The town was near deserted but, then, nowadays such a thing was not unusual. Finally the person came to a rickety looking inn that was far past its prime, the faded sign that hung above its door read; 'Trip to Jerusalem.'

The Nightwatchman entered the inn, hand subconsciously moving to the mask that hid his face. The air inside the inn was thick with the smell of ale and smoke from the smouldering fireplace hung in the air, giving the room a hazy quality. The inn itself was empty save for a small group of rag tag men sitting in one corner. The Nightwatchman moved toward them.

They saw him coming and some of them shoved over to make room, but the over-all atmosphere was grim. He took a seat with murmured thanks. The group quietened as their attention turn to him.

"What news do you have for us then?" asked Winston. He could be likened to second in command of the group, after Little John, the great hulking bear of a man who preferred to leave the speaking to Winston.

"It's tonight." The Nightwatchman answered simply, his eyes travelling to take in the rest of the group. All of them carried at least one gun, as well as an assortment of other weapons, some in plain sight, others hidden.

Erebus was uncharacteristically sullen, keeping his light blue eyes on the table he was absently scratching at with one of his many small knifes. The dark haired Seff sat on his right, a bandage wrapped around the upper part of his right arm, a sign of a recent scuffle most likely. Raven, a small dark skinned and dark haired Saracen, on Erebus' left, perched nimbly on the divider between this booth and the next. Both looked equally troubled, each showing it in his own way. John and Winston however seemed unworried, although this could be attributed to their personalities. John being the one who would hide most of his true feelings and Winston being the kind who honestly only cared for himself.

"Where's Moros?" The Nightwatchman asked suddenly, realising that the youngest of their group was absent.

"He got caught," Erebus answered sourly.

"Look now don't you start!" Winston exclaimed in characteristic burst of temper.

"Both of you stop," Raven interjected firmly, the Nightwatchman allowed himself a small smile under his mask; Raven often ended up playing the part of the gang's diplomat, a role which suited him, "We've got it all under control," Raven assured the Nightwatchman. John nodded confirmation.

"And the plan remains the same?" The Nightwatchman asked.

"Yes," Raven nodded.

"Good." The Nightwatchman rose to his feet, "See you tonight."

The chime that hung on the door jangled as he exited.


End file.
